myself as a child
As I lay awake last night trying to fall asleep, I indulged in childhood memories. Ever have a memory of some activity, event, or scene from long ago that you haven’t thought of a long time pop into your head; that feels almost fresh in the remembering? I was exploring those sorts of memories last night…
The local elementary school-sponsored summer camps I attended when I was nine and ten; memories associated with riding by bike all over Fairfield - of passing a dead squirrel hit by a car and spending the whole day bicycling back to the spot wondering what I should do about it; of passing whole weekend days in the children’s section of the library; the week-long only friends I made at Girl Scout camp the summer I turned 11; the imaginary “perfect” family I constructed in and played out in my head from time to time until I was 16 … on and on.
I have extensive memories of my childhood. I had a rich and vivid play life, often solo. I read tons, ran around and bicycled all over, made tapes with friends, played “school”, invented towns, made lists, kept scrapbooks, lip-synched in the mirror, made up clubs and board games and jokes, did word puzzles, memorized plays and poems, and more - all for fun. I feel sorry for young people now whose future memories of their childhoods will be dominated by television watching and video game playing. What a waste of imagination, creativity and energy.
My childhood is the very epitome of bittersweet. I look back and feel happy for the memories of play, but there is also a compassion for the young Emily who went through so much. My childhood was quite sad and troubled as I moved from foster home to foster home, living with Mom in between, dealing with her mania, struggling in our poverty, feeling like I was alone in my experience of the world.
Although I no longer feel so alone and don’t have some of the same struggles, it’s amazing how familiar the young me feels. It sounds stupidly obvious perhaps, but I find it endearing that I’ve carried the same myself within me for my entire life. In a sense I feel no wiser now than I did when I was 7 or 15 or 21 because underneath all of the superficial, changeable struggles and life happenings, I’ve always had the same intuitions and the same commitments. Putting myself back in my 7-year old shoes, I can remember that the ways I felt deep-down about what I witnessed and experienced - like my concern for the dead squirrel - are the same I feel now.
It explains why, although I have more knowledge than I did then, I feel I was just as perceptive then as I am now. I think that what I’m attempting to describe is perhaps an innate humanity that doesn’t necessarily lessen or grow, but is instead subject to varying degrees of acknowledgement. I’ve always believed one’s “amount” of wisdom has little to do with age, and everything to do with one’s willingness to be authentic. I’ve known more children I would call wise than adults; many adults (at least in this culture) have let too much crap layer on top and let the crap inform them rather than the gold underneath.
I hope this makes sense. Does anyone see this for themselves - find yourself as a child endearing?
Christine said,
January 29, 2004 @ 9:39 pm
Oh, Emily….
How wonderful this post is…I am twice your age and I still have those days when a long forgotten childhood event will snap into my head…sometimes a great one, sometimes not so great. But you got me thinking about what my childhood, well how I spent my childhood, so I shall share some of it with you -
Although I did have two sisters I spent a great deal of time alone, reading, climbing trees and up the garage roof, wishing I was an orphan as my childhood was filled with raging alcoholic parents, so periods of time were dark. (I too had a ‘perfect family’ movie in my head during those times when I needed one). My scrapbooks were of designing the ‘perfect’ house, furniture, applicances and all…..I live in nothing anywhere close to what I dreamed of…..the Nancy Drew Mysteries, Clara Barton, and other books that captured my attention… discovering the local rock and roll station, wishing we had a color TV, and a dishwasher…(my nightly chore) - life seemed so unfair at times
But other times filled with ballet lessons, going to my grandparents and being their “treasured” granddaughter, helping with the cows, climbing the numerous and varied fruit trees, or sitting underneath the weeping willow - hiding but able to see the rest of the world. Spending a week or two at Camp Fire Camp during the summer, getting to ride the ferry and having an escape from home and parents, my father’s devastating illness that created even more moments of pain as the word cancer seemed to adhere itself even to those of us who were healthy….my cat “Justa”, my dog “Cookie” …..the list is endless
I must say, surviving it has made me a better person and I wouldn’t trade my childhood for anyone elses…even the rough times helped me discover who I am — even today. I know more book stuff today, but the inuitive/spiritual is still in tact….stronger and clearer, safely wrapped around me like an old comforter.
Thanks for the memory!
Christine
Pamela said,
January 31, 2004 @ 11:09 am
Emily,
I’m pressed for time, but I had to contribute. Sometimes you write things that are so tender and insightful and full of honest vulnerability. It’s so cool to be both a go-getter, big-time intellectual, yet sensitive and earnest as well.
It’s amazing to me to look at that photo of you and see a little sprite just bursting with an expression that reads like joie de vivre (sp?). You fixed your world in many ways by the imaginary play and creative games.
Like Christine above, and you, my childhood held elements of extreme dysfunction and violence. But also times when the universe aligned right and there was tremendous beauty. By today’s standards, I may have ended up outside of the home as well, but as you mentioned, I know that the things I experienced are all pieces of me now, and the personal nuances, complexities, and arguably creativities, probably resulted from the uncertainty of my childhood.
In the 70’s healing the inner child was the psychological buzz-subject. Now it’s depression and anxiety. But I liked the idea of answering to that kid inside sometimes.
There’s a great book called “The Drama of the Gifted Child,” I have it if you (or Christine) ever want to read it. It answered some questions and suggested some insights that I found very helpful.
Ms Lauren said,
January 31, 2004 @ 6:03 pm
I’ve always wanted to be older. Still do.
The sad thing for me is looking back and not feeling any happiness. I’ve always been a rather even person with even moods. I wonder if it’s the lack of pictures. Even today I hate my picture taken.
When I try to think of happy moments, I think of things like tonight - “lovey time” with E, teaching him to play Uno and Go Fish. The kid’s a trip.
He is my happiness, and when I think back to my childhood and my lack of real ups, I hope I can give him things to feel good about.